Echoes of my Mind
by NorthernStar
Summary: People walk in and out of each other’s lives, briefly touching base, leaving nothing but echoes. Blair’s path crosses with another, both hear echoes…


Disclaimer:  Pet Fly owns them.  I'm just playing with their toys.

Rating: PG-13

Warning:  Some adult content.  Nothing graphic.

Summary:  People walk in and out of each other's lives, briefly touching base, leaving nothing but echoes.  Blair's path crosses with another, both hear echoes…

Notes:  Takes place shortly after "Reunion" in the second season.  In the TS universe, it would be the summer of 1996.  

Author's notes:  Inspired in part by Murder 101.  Blair seemed very angry here, and more troubled and upset by what was happening than was really explained.  And he said "I'm not too sure I (understand what she's going through)."  Not too sure?  Shouldn't that have been "I don't." or "I can't?"

**Echoes of My Mind**

By NorthernStar

Blair carried the steaming cups of coffee down the hospital corridor.  The heat quickly bleaching though the thin plastic, burning his finger tips, but the pain didn't bite deep enough to draw him out of his thoughts.  He was worried about Simon; he'd lost a lot of blood at the hotel, crawling through the vents and the doctors had mentioned something about muscle damage.  Despite their assurances that the captain would make a full recovery, Blair could help the knot of anxiety clenching up his gut.  That surprised him.

Or maybe it shouldn't.  Just recently he had begun to realise just how much a part of his life cops had become.  

Blair had grown up hating them, calling them pigs, seeing how they treated his mom for nothing more than daring to be different.  He'd seen nothing in his teens to change that belief, had taken more than a few bruises from over eager cops during protests…  Blair had never had reason to trust them…until now.

_Sorry, mom…_

He smiled to himself.  No apology was needed; Naomi would know he was just making his own way in life.

Blair rounded a corner and saw Jim standing near Bank's room, talking to a woman in a white coat.  Her back was towards him, auburn hair obscuring any view of her face.  As he came closer, he caught her profile as she spoke to Jim.  

Blair's fingers tensed around the cups in recognition.  It had been a long time, but some things you didn't forget.

However much you wanted too. 

He might have turned away, avoided them, but Jim glanced in his direction even as he spoke.  Blair wondered idly if Jim had picked up his scent or the slight step up in his heartbeat at seeing Kelly again.

Blair came over, handing Jim the coffee and sipping his own.  He nodded once to Kelly, but the woman was too professional to let their connection slip.

"Thank you, doctor."  Jim took a swallow of coffee.  "Just gotta go sign some papers, Chief.  It'll just take a couple of minutes."

"Sure."

Jim walked away as Blair watched.  He was aware of Kelly had remained at his side.  

"It's Blair, isn't it?"  She said.  It wasn't really a question.  

"Yeah."  He held out his hand to shake.  "Hi, Dr Winters.  It's…it's been a while."

She took it warmly.  "Hasn't it?  And its Kelly, remember?"  

Yes he did, all too well.

"I almost didn't recognise you."  She continued, "I'm glad you grew your hair back.  And then some."

Laughing a little, he pushed a lock behind his ear with his thumb.  "I went on a research project in Sumatra.  There wasn't a pair of scissors in three hundred miles and when I got back, I decided to keep it."

She laughed gently.  He remembered that.  "Research?  You're still at Rainer?"

It was such a simple conversation – small talk – yet nothing simple or small at all.  "I'm a grad student now, teaching fellow actually."

"I'm glad you stuck with it.  I know how difficult that year was for you."

"I had to repeat it.  Pretty much missed that whole semester.  My faculty advisor kinda went to bat for me, got me an extension on my scholarship."

"You deserved the break, Blair."

"Took a year out after graduation, travelled with my mom."  He shrugged, like it was nothing.  "I needed to clear my head, you know?"

She appraised him.  "It looks like it worked.  You look great."  She didn't let the comment linger and changed the subject.  Blair had forgotten how good she was at that.  "You know Detective Ellison?"

"I'm working with the police for my dissertation."

"For a moment there, I thought you were going to shock me and say you're a cop."

He laughed at that.  "I'm doing my thesis on closed societies."

"Closed societies?"

"Sure.  In every close nit group of individuals, such as a work place setting or something more environmental, like a prison, people subconsciously fall into standard behavioural and societal patterns."

"Always the anthropologist."  But the smile on her face faded and she laid a hand on his elbow, looking him right in the eyes.  "How are you?"  

Blair nodded, body moving.  "Better."  He said.

He opened his mouth to say more but Jim came up to his side.

Kelly smiled politely.  "If you'll excuse me."  She turned to Blair. "Don't be a stranger, all right?"

He smiled in return.  "Okay."

Blair watched her disappear down the corridor.  Jim eyed him with idle curiosity.

"Old flame?"

He threw Jim his most devilish grin and started to walk.  "Almost.  How's Simon?"

"They wheeled him past me in the corridor."

"He's okay, right?"

"Yeah."  Jim grinned.  "He's sitting up moaning about the no-smoking rule so I figure he's on the mend."

***

Kelly stopped at the end of the corridor and looked back.  She watched the young man grin at his friend, head bobbing energetically as they talked.  So different from the first time she'd met him and yet achingly similar.  The pair turned and walked away.  As their happy chatter faded, she couldn't help thinking back…    

*

Kelly Winters stopped before the door and flipped over the page on her clipboard to view her next patient's notes.  Blair Sandburg, 19 year old anthropology student, had been brought in by two uniform cops and a woman from the university security in the early hours of yesterday morning.  He'd been raped.

There wasn't much on the case sheets.  Blair didn't have much of medical record and the only information listed was current.  5 foot 8, 135 pounds, multiple contusions, minor cuts, rectal fissures, currently on a dextrose IV.  

She knocked and entered.  

The kid in the bed was all long skinny bones, still a boy, with a mop of dark curls on the top of his head, falling in his eyes but cut short around the back and sides.  Angry bruises stood out along his jaw and throat, disappearing beneath the hospital gown he wore, and his lip was badly split.

"Hi, I'm Kelly Winters.  I'm the psychologist on staff.  Dr Hills asked me to stop by."

The boy looked up, blue eyes peeking through a nest of dark curls.  "Hey."

"How're you doing?"

"I'm okay."  But his face was an open book, eyes betraying tension and mistrust.

"I'd be surprised if you were."  She came closer.  "You've been through a terrible ordeal, Blair.  It's normal to feel upset."

"I know."  He gave her a forced smile.  "I'm minoring in psych."

One of the best practices of her field was getting to know your patient first.  So she smiled back and asked.  "What's your major?"

"Anthropology."

"That must be really fascinating."

"Yeah."  They chatted for while about his studies and his teachers at Rainer.  She saw the unconscious relaxation in his body as he talked; the spark in his shadowed eyes.  He really loved the subject.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"  She asked eventually.

The mistrust was immediately back in his eyes.  She didn't wait for the invite, sliding into the cold plastic hospital chair beside his bed.  The atmosphere was suddenly as chilled and uninviting as the seat beneath her.  

He looked away.

"Blair," she asked softly.  "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"You know."

"I've seen the medical report.  That's just facts; I want to know about you.  How your feeling."

"You know it's fascinating really.  Every culture has its own moral and ethical stand on rape.  Sexual domination and submission form a large part of most societies' subculture.  Did you know in some parts of the world the blame for rape falls on the victim? Families prefer to cast them out rather than suffer the shame."

"I think I read that somewhere."

"And it's not uncommon in some countries to inflict forms of punishment, such as stoning, on the victim."

"Blair, I want to talk about you."

"I read this paper once on African tribal laws that-"

"Tell me about YOU."

"And I did this study as part of my psychology-"

"Blair."

"Man, this sucks!"  The kid tossed back the blankets and stumbled from the bed, putting distance between them.  He tugged the IV pole with him.  

She sighed, "Blair, Dr Hills tells me that physically you're ready to go home.  But he doesn't want to release you until he knows you've talked to someone about this and you know your options."

He looked around.  "Options?"

"I can give you the numbers of some good physiatrists in the area."  She told him.  "They all specialise this kind of trauma."

"Even if I wanted help with my '_trauma'_…" the word was spat out contemptuously, "I can barely afford books."

"There are a few volunteer services and there's also self-help groups, one of which is on your campus."  She looked him in the eyes.  "I really think it would help."

"I'm familiar with the psych.  I know what I'm doing.  I'll get through this."

Kelly bit back her immediate response, knowing the kid wasn't ready to leave denial behind just yet.  So instead she said quietly.  "You don't have to deal with this alone."

"I'm not alone."

"I'm glad to hear it.  But none of that matters if you're not willing to talk about it."

He whirled on her, anger flushing his face.  "I am talking about it!  What do you wanna know?  How long it took, huh?"  His hands jabbed at the air.  "How much it hurt?  Did I ask for it?  Did I say anything, do anything?  Come on, it's a freebie."

"Blair, calm down."

He opened his mouth to snap back at her, but a brisk knock on the door interrupted them.  She didn't fail to notice the sudden fear in his eyes.

Blair walked back over to the bed and sank down.  "Come in."

Two men entered and came over to Blair; both had detective shields clipped to their belts.

"Mr Sandburg?"

He nodded.

"I'm Detective Ryan; this is my partner Ray Collins.  Campus security called us when you reported your assault to them."

"They interviewed Korrigan."  The other detective continued.  "He's not denying that you had sex, however he does maintain you consented."

Kelly watched the kid's face pale.  He swallowed.  "He's lying."

"If you choose to make an official statement, we can bring him in and charge him." 

Kelly sighed, knowing what the officer meant but asking anyway.  "If he chooses?"

"With all due respect, it's Mr Sandburg's word against his.  Even with DNA and the samples from the rape kit, the case will still come down to consent."

"I didn't give it!"  Blair cried.  "We were friends.  I thought we were gonna have a couple of drinks, study…"  The words came out breathlessly, as if getting them out quickly enough could deny them.  "He asked me in, I said yes, we went inside, he-he forced me up against the wall and he raped me!"

Ryan didn't blink.  "And?"

"What else is there to say?"  He demanded.  "That's it!"

"You didn't try to fight back?"

The boy swallowed convulsively, anger gone.  "He had me by the hair…"

*

Kelly shivered at the memory, suddenly flashing on the image of the next time she'd seen the boy.  Blair, eyes darkly circled, skin sallow, probably a good ten pounds lighter…with his hair cropped, haphazardly, angrily.  

No-one would ever grab him like that again…

***

Blair slid into the passenger seat of Jim's truck.  Dawn had broken while they'd been inside and he caught himself yawning.  As Jim pulled out onto the main road, Blair laid his head back and feinted dozing.  It had been a long night and he guessed Jim was probably too tired to make conversation, which suited him.

He had a lot to think about.

It had been a long time since he'd thought of Kelly. She had, after all, been just a minor player in a much larger drama, one that had encompassed, and ultimately robbed him of, a whole two years of his life.  He still lived in its shadow.

He knew he always would.

_I'm glad you grew your hair back…_  

Blair shifted in his seat, feeling the silky scratch of curls across his cheek.  He knew in a way it was defiance; taking back his life…  In another it was just him – just a reflection of who he was.  

And damn, it looked good.

Naomi would be so pleased when she saw it.  She had mourned their loss…

*

_Snip.__  Snip.  Snip._

His hands were shaking.  The person staring wildly back at himself in the mirror wasn't him, couldn't be him.  Red hair flashed at his side, narrow fingers plucked the scissors from his hand.

His mother stroked the shorn hair, pressed her forehead against his cheek.  "Oh honey…no…_no_…"

*

The interview room was cold and damp, empty of character.  Blair had lost count of the number of times he'd been in here now.  He stopped his pacing and looked at Ryan, repeating the detective's words back to him.  

"Reckless endangerment?"  That didn't sound anything like assault.

The sound of thunder rolled in the distance, penetrating the walls of the PD… Outside, the world went on.  In here, it froze…for victims as well as criminals, it seemed.

Ryan didn't flinch from his gaze.  "Mr Sandburg, it was the only way to secure a conviction."

Blair went back to pacing the small room, sneakers squeaking on the old linoleum floor.  "How long?"

"The DA agreed to reduce the charge if he pleaded guilty to-" Ryan began to explain.

But he didn't care about all that.  There was only one question that needed to be answered.  "How long?"

"It does mean you won't have to testify in court and-"

"How long?!"

Ryan sighed.  "Six months.  Maybe less."

"Six months!"  Blair yelled.  

"The DA felt-"

"What about what I wanted, huh?"

"Blair, the rape charge was unlikely to make it in court.  This way…at least he goes away, gets a record."

"Gets a record?  Is that all you care about?  That bastard raped me!"

"I don't like this anymore than you do, but it wasn't my call."

"Screw you!"  Turning, he made for the door.

"Blair!"  Ryan tried to grab Blair's arm; the sudden crowding, the sudden touch like sickness in his belly.  He pushed the invading, clammy hands away and fled out the door.  He felt the vibrations as it slammed behind him; his skin sensitised and gritty.  

Outside the department, the rain pelted him, soaking through his thin shirt, dripping down his shorn head.  He might have even felt cleansed…if he could feel anything at all…

*

The ceiling above him, the scratch of the sheets and blankets knotted around his legs, the constant ticking of the clock…  Chimes striking the hour… Midnight…one…two…three…

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_…

Blair turned over, pushing the bed covers away.  Cold night air chilled his skin, just like it had when Korrigan had…

And suddenly there were hands in his hair and he remembered how his vision had tilted and fuzzed from the blow to his head…How the wall had been hard against his front…

He tossed over to his other side, but the memory wouldn't go.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_…

His jeans had made a rustling sound as they forced off his hips.  Cold air had caressed his legs and backside and he'd shivered.  His throat had grown sore from yelling… And then the pain, the heavy weight and the smell… 

Oh God…the smell… 

Blair sat up, swinging his legs out of bed, breathing hard.  He sat there, listening to the pound of his own heart.  Ran spread fingers through the short spiky curls…gripped, tangling the snarls…pulled…

The pain was sharp but real.  Not inside.  

The memory looped and he pushed the heels of his hands deep into his eye sockets, shaking his head slightly to break the image.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_…

Then the anger exploded and he swept out his hands, knocking the clock against the wall.  The glass front broke, the crack like lightening across the sky but the constant tick remained.  

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_…

But something else had broken too, inside, and the force of it overwhelmed him.  Caught up he pushed all his books off the shelves, starting on the ornaments when there was no more.  China and pottery smashed, shards flying.  Photos broke, papers torn and scattered.

Then he sank down in the devastation and waited quietly for the sun to come up.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_…

***

"You ok, chief?"

Blair opened his eyes.  Jim took his attention off the road for a second to meet his gaze, concern tightening his face.

"Yeah, just tired, you know?"

***

On the first day of finals, Blair spent his last 5 dollars on a loaf of bread and went to feed the ducks.  When the bag was empty and his clothes were soaked through from the rainstorm, he walked back to his dorm room and found his mother crying.

Staring at her, surrounded by his candles, the air full of burnt sage, but unable to find the peace of mediation, he finally felt the sting of his own tears.  Wetness filling his eyes after so long denying them…

But maybe it was all that sage, because anger surged a moment later and he wanted to yell at her for being so selfish.  How dare she bring her own pain to him when he had so much of his own to deal with?  

Yet the words didn't come.  He simply sat down beside her and pulled her into his embrace.  They sat like that for a long time.

"Mom?"  He asked eventually.  "What is it?  Is it Uncle David?"

But he knew it wasn't.  

"Hal Buckner called me."  She said, wiping away the last of her tears.  "He's worried about you."

Missing finals today…well that really was final.  No graduation for Blair Sandburg…  

"Class…  I just can't right now, Naomi."

She smiled slightly.  "I hear that."  She looked at him, at the shadows under his eyes.  Knew he had missed so much school…that he'd pushed away the very things that were important to him.  

"I need you to trust me, Blair…"  She told him as she got up and walked unsteadily towards the bed.  He watched as she reached down and picked up the brown backpack she'd bought him the day he got into Rainer.  She put it on the bed and opened the drawers on his dresser and began to empty it of clothes. It felt familiar, like all those times they'd left yet another home.  In a strange sort of way, it was a comfort.

*

Wildflowers were blooming on the side of the dirt track, bobbing in the breeze.  Blair watched as knot of low pussytoes and biscuitroot were crushed under the wheels of an old bus that drew up beside him.  The sign on the top said 'St. Sebastian's Monastery.'  The doors opened and an elderly monk got out.  He was old and a little portly, with salt and pepper curls and a greying beard.  Blair watched fascinated, feeling a thrum of excitement he hadn't felt in a long time.

This man led a life so different from what Blair was used to.  The faith and commitment, the hardships…  He wanted to know and experience that for himself.

The elderly monk picked up his bag.  It was light; he hadn't really packed much more than clothes.  No books, no course work, just himself.

"I'm Brother Marcus."  The monk said.

Blair took his hand.  "Blair Sandburg."

The Monk's face softened at his name.  "You have your mother's eyes."

Blair's jaw dropped at the thought of his mother and a monk.  Naomi hadn't told him that when she'd suggested he come here.

Marcus laughed and laid a hand on his shoulder, gently leading him inside.  "Welcome, Brother Blair…"

*

Blair stood at the old stone sink and rubbed soap over his hands, washing away the stains from restoring the coloured glass.  His back was to Marcus but he guessed the monk was admiring his brushwork.  He'd even surprised himself how good he was at layering the tiny panes.

"Should you ever wish to leave anthropology behind, there's a place for you here in my workshop."  He said, coming to stand beside Blair.  "You should have been an artist."

"Don't hold your breath, man."

Marcus laughed.  "Who knows what's in our futures?  Do you think that I saw myself here when I was your age?"

Blair dried his hands.  "I don't have your faith.  I respect what you believe, but I don't have faith."

"Maybe one day you will find that you do."

He looked away.  "I doubt that."

"Because you believe you've seen and experienced the Godlessness of this world?"

Blair's head snapped around.  "Naomi told you?"  She had promised she wouldn't.

"No.  But…"  He touched Blair's shoulder, his hand radiating warmth.  "I can see the pain in your eyes."

"Oh man…"

"You don't have to tell me."

The hand on his shoulder stroked a little and the floor was suddenly there under his backside.  Marcus held him all the way down.

"You are tired, my friend."  The old monk murmured.  "It is time to let go."

Blair looked into his eyes and felt the trickle of wetness on his cheek.  The tears he'd denied for so long finally began to slip free.

***

At the loft, Blair made coffee and asked about the report he and Jim would have to make.  Then he went to his room and sat on the bed.  Rolling onto his side he opened his drawer and pulled out the photo of his mother he kept there.  Tucked into the frame was a scrap of paper on which a number was haphazardly scrawled.

He hadn't seen Naomi in nearly six months, hadn't spoken to her for over three and the last a letter he'd received from her had been over six weeks ago.  She'd given him this number some time ago, as an emergency contact, and in all that time he hadn't really felt the need to call and chat.  Naomi didn't hold him to such things.  And mostly he was too busy to miss her, but sometimes…like now…

Blair tugged in the number from the frame and picked up the phone.  He quickly dialled the long number and a long moment later, the connection began to ring.  An even longer moment passed before anyone answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mom it's me."

"Blair!  Is everything all right?"

"Yeah…its fine mom."  He smiled; pleasantly surprised to find that was the truth.  "Just callin' to hear your voice, you know..?"

**~~Fin~~**


End file.
